Always
by Lady Viola Delesseps
Summary: A bit of beauteous vagueness. Pay close attention. A request.


It wasn't as if that was the beginning of it. In the weeks leading up to this particular day, he had been experiencing more and more ridicule at the hands of the group that always stuck together, the group that consisted of the tall one, the handsome one, the long-haired one, and the quiet one. It was the handsome one that led the onslaught, followed usually by the long-haired one, or, more often now, the quiet one. It was always the tall one that did not participate much, but then, he had a secret, and the young man knew what it was. The gleam in the tall one's eye when their gazes met was enough to confirm that. The young man with the pale face and the drooping dark hair knew what kept the tall one to himself so much, and each silently threatened the other. _If you ever tell._

And then there was her - the one with the hair that looked burnished in the sunlight, and ebbed and flowed in the breezes like branches of willow. She never ridiculed him, never threatened him. At least not with anything but regret, ignorance, and abandonment. He was watching her even now, sitting by herself on a bench. His heart went to her; he could see it all before his eyes as clearly as if it was being enacted in a seeing crystal. The wind stirred his clothing, and his footsteps, crushing the dried leaves on the path as he walked, were the only sound that could be heard. Until he was close enough to hear her soft breaths, and then he knew that she was crying. In his mind's eye he reached up a thin hand to wipe the tear from her cheek.

Real footsteps were heard coming. He clenched his teeth in disdain. The quiet one, followed by the long-haired one lingered around the corner as the handsome one took a seat next to her on a bench. The dark young man looked away as an arm was flung carelessly about her shoulder. _If it had been me_... The arm would never be careless, the glance never cocky and devil-may-care. He would be gentle, and his eyes would be the basin that reflected his soul... a soul full of pent-up feelings that he knew would never be sorted out.

"Speak up," he had been told. "And stop being so different." Different. Once he thought it was good. Even where he was supposed to belong, he never belonged. Only in the hours when they had sought the whole world in each others' eyes, had discovered the meaning of life in each others' touch and known that some things cannot be described in words had they both ever admitted to feeling they could be as they were. They hadn't spoken much since. They both knew that they were forbidden subjects now, as forbidden as the forest after dark. She was really crying now, and the handsome one's form was bent, peering up into her face beneath the veil of her hair. He was asking her what was the matter. Something perverse lit a joyous ember into flame when she did not answer right away.

A touch on his shoulder startled him. He leapt to his feet, spilling his burden upon the autumning ground, and turned to behold the tall one. He approached with a strange gleam in his light eyes.

"You did this, didn't you," he said. The dark young man felt his footsteps retreating.

"I don't know what you mean," he said, tripping over a large volume, and dropping to his knees to pick it up in an awkward, side-wise manner.

"Tell me."

"I will not." His black eyes darkened further. "It is none of your concern."  
"I tell you, it is!' The tall one jerked a thumb toward the pair on the bench, wrapped in each others' arms. "Any concern of his is a concern of mine. We are as bonded as brothers."

"How touching," the dark-haired young man couldn't resist scoffing.

The tall one collared him. "Tell me."

"Why should I?" The dark one choked.

"Because I know."

"It's no more than I know of you."

The tall one released him, and the young man regained his footing on the uneven ground with a glare in his eyes. "Mild mannered, are we?"

"On occasion," growled the tall one. "You may be surprised."

"It takes a lot to shake my credulity," the young man replied.

Just then the long-haired one was heard calling, and with a parting look of warning, the tall one joined the long-haired one and the quiet one at the corner.

The handsome one was stalking toward him, and the dark young man drew himself up, meeting him in the eye.

"What are you doing here?" the handsome one said, his eyes flashing. "Get out."

"This is public property."

"I said, get out."

"Leave him be," a girlish voice called. She was standing to her feet, and approaching them, taking the handsome one by the hand. "Come," she whispered. "We should talk alone."

And he hardly knew how it happened, but suddenly he was there at her side, her other hand seized in his own.

"We need to talk," was all he could manage.

The handsome one was dumbfounded. "You what?"

The beautiful girl shook her head. "No, no, please..." Her eyes were soft. "You don't understand."

"Go!" The handsome one gestured to his group which dispersed quickly, like spiders from the shadow of a bird. The three stood alone with the fall air swirling around them.

"Well?" The handsome one looked from the girl to the dark young man, and back again. The girl put a gentle hand on the handsome one's shoulder. The dark young man cringed inwardly.

"Wait for me. I will make him understand."

"This is a _secret_!" the handsome one vociferated.

"Yes, it is." Her gaze was even. "And it always must be. But let us alone. Only for a moment."

Slowly, sulkily, the handsome one retreated down the hillside, but remained watching from a short distance out of earshot, his arms folded.

"He is very protective," the young woman offered apologetically.

The dark one only met her gaze. "What is wrong?" he asked, with the simplicity she so appreciated. No one else seemed to see it for what it was; he had made dreadful impressions on nearly everyone he'd ever met except her, and almost the first thing she had noticed about him was his odd footwear.

"I cannot say. It is not my secret to tell."

He drew imperceptibly closer. "Can I help you?" And at the simple question she buried her face in his shoulder. He could see down the hillside, where the handsome one gave a twitch. But he merely wrapped his arms around her and that was when he heard her whisper through his hair, a single sentence in his ear. Their embrace grew lifeless. When they drew apart, their gazes locked.

"It must be a secret," she whispered. "I am going to speak to him, and let him believe -"

"Is there good reason?" He could feel the blood that had previously drained from his face return, making his eyeballs ache. She nodded.

And his hand lifted and slapped her across the face, drawing a rosy mark from her alabaster skin. He heard his own voice spit out the word.

Her eyes were clear, the pupils enormous. He took a step backward.

"I-I'm sorry," he stammered. "I - I'm only shocked and..."

"I have told you the truth. But it must remain a secret. I am going to talk to him now. He must never know what I have told you. He must think..." Her tone was so normal. Maddeningly so, and the image hovered before his vision, wreathed in smoke-like-haze, something that was loathesome to him.

"I thought -" he choked.

She shook her head. "Farewell."

And she walked down the hillside. Arm in arm with the handsome one, she did not look back. He knew he had behaved badly. Not just now, but in almost every moment of his life up until now. Somehow he always felt that she redeemed him. Now he was beyond hope. Their words drifted back to him on the breezes.

"What was that about?"

"Nothing. He would not understand, it is our concern."

"I - I don't know what to say."

"Tell me when we're alone."

The dark young man hoped she would look back over her shoulder, give him one final glance, an answer, a look of any kind, be it love, anger, hatred, or forgiveness. But she did not turn back. He stood there until darkness fell. And that wasn't the end of it.


End file.
